Adventure of the Lonely Hearts
by Winterswild
Summary: Piccolo's life is derailed when he meets a Namekian traveller and Vegeta, Eighteen and Gohan find themselves on a galactic rescue mission as a result. M/M
1. A Namekian traveller

**Adventure of the Lonely Hearts**

Piccolo's life gets derailed when he meets a Namekian traveller. Yaoi/hermaphrodite.

Piccolo, Vegeta and Eighteen friendship. The rest of the Z senshi will also feature heavily, particularly the lovely Dende & Nail!

Piccolo/Namekian OC - Namekians are hermaphrodites in this story

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z or any of its characters

Warning: Yaoi/hermaphrodite, violence & Swearing

 **Chapter One**

 **A Namekian Traveller**

He put down the book for the third time, long jade fingers closing it finally. The other hand went to his face and he rubbed small circles into his left temple. Sitting, secluded in one corner of the grand Lookout library, Piccolo sighed again. The sweet smell of old tomes and the elegant carving of the stone that held them did nothing to qualm his unsteady mind. Taking the time to sit and read used to be a rare indulgence, but he found himself in here more and more since…

He stood, the wooden seat moaned slightly as it always did and he briefly considered bringing a cushion next time. He scowled immediately at the thought, how alarmingly human. He left the old book sitting on the small, low stone table, centuries of dust still layering the cover where Piccolo had not thought to wipe it clean. The floors and fixtured were spotless, an image captured in time. Mr Popo took careful care of the old library and often marvelled at the treasures within, as he swept and wiped away the degradation. Piccolo stretched out tired muscles from his training yesterday with Vegeta, who had declared that the Namek had 'cheated' the Prince out of his victory by using his height to his advantage. The memory of kicking the small, powerful man made him smirk. He would see the arrogant Prince again soon and he was looking forward to the challenge. He also liked to see Goten, who would likely be at Capsule Corp playing and getting up to no good with his partner in crime, Trunks.

The air was unusually cool as he walked towards the right wing, and he wondered if Mr Popo had cast some spell to keep it that way so the books would be preserved. A large, beautifully crafted fireplace sat in the centre of the hall, with two staircases flanking either side, and he supposed the fire would have been used once upon a time. He hummed slightly under his breath, it must have been five hundred years or more since it roared, warming avid readers and scholars. Piccolo was considering using it now, and he knew then that he was being ridiculously weak. He had already traded in his customary gi for a thicker material, an unbuttoned indigo shirt, not unlike what he'd seen humans wear, but with a Namekian touch. A thinner white vest was underneath, and trousers that were again indigo and they sat a lot closer to his body than he was used to. He was barefoot and enjoying the cool floor against his skin, black talons sometimes tapping against the stone. The clothes had actually been a gift from Dende who, had either grown bored of seeing Piccolo in the same gi day in, day out, or had thought that he would appreciate the human and Namekian combination. It had been his hatch day, apparently. Piccolo wore them mostly to please the little Kami, who he had become so fond of, and because of Nail's unrelenting influence. It was incredibly insulting to a Namekian to not appreciate a gift, he had been abruptly informed. Thinking about Dende made him frown. That's what had been bothering him, and for no good reason.

Dende had a friend visiting. A friend that he had made on his last visit to New Namek, and not six months later here he was. A Namekian traveller, who had not been born on Namek, which Piccolo knew from experience was unusual and had garnered a lot of attention. Dende had explained that the visitor had been regaling young children with tales of his adventures, and exchanging knowledge with the elders, when he had arrived. A warrior Namek who had chosen a life of delivering aid to those in need. Piccolo scoffed. _My hero, where was he when Frieza was enslaving his people?_

 _Your people._ Nail's comment sounded in his mind from somewhere deep within.

Mokugyo. There was just something about him that made Piccolo pause, something he didn't trust. It could be the way Dende had befriended him so easily, he was always so ready to believe in people. Luckily, Piccolo didn't suffer from this inherently stupid weakness. He was mulling over how to fix this dangerous quality in the little Kami when his reverie was rudely interrupted and he nearly stumbled in his strain to not show a reaction. Mokugyo's voice echoed in the hall.

"Journey to the West" He had picked up the book Piccolo had left on the table and was now inspecting it "I didn't take you for a reader."

Piccolo narrowed his eyes as he turned around, the fireplace to the right and standing between them. _Whether or not I read won't matter much when I mash your face into the floor._

"I'm full of surprises"

Mokugyo smiled, fangs sharp and white against his jade skin. It was darker than Piccolo's by a couple of shades, and it made his whiteness of his teeth even more striking.

"Aren't you just! What's it about?"

Piccolo crossed his arms, the shirt pulling taught. He was regretting wearing it.

"Why don't you read it and find out"

Mokugyo chuckled and placed the book down carefully. He was wearing dark blue trousers, pockets everywhere, a white top which had a deep V and capped sleeves, and a blue scarf. That relentless Namekian custom of covering the neck was now suddenly making Piccolo feel self conscious. It was some consolation to him that they looked as ridiculous as each other, though Piccolo did absently put a hand to his throat before dropping it. It was something about Nameks.

"I'll wait until you're done. Dende told me you were in here...I didn't realise this place had such a library, it's magnificent"

He grunted under his breath and his visitor walked over towards him, to Piccolo's chagrin he was clearly intent on continuing their conversation.

Mokugyo glanced at the fireplace on his way, momentarily marvelling at the fine details, before coming to a stop in front of the surly Namekian. He had hands in his pockets, and even in such a non threatening pose, Piccolo was silently fuming that this other Namek seemed to be built as strong _and_ they were pretty much the same height. Where Piccolo had longer legs however, Mokugyo appeared to be stockier. Piccolo had no idea why but it bothered him to no end and before he could check himself, he had spoken.

"Do you train?"

Mokugyo paused at the sudden question before replying, his voice didn't have the same gravelly tones that Piccolo's did.

"I do, but if you mean to fight, I don't do that. I just like to keep in shape"

Piccolo frowned as he tried to understand. _You mean the gym? You mean like...Yamucha?_

"So you can't fight"

It was such a flat statement that Mokugyo faltered, and something flashed in his dark blue eyes.

"Is that going to be a problem?"

"No" Piccolo's features didn't move as he replied.

Mokugyo had been on the Lookout for a week and had thoroughly enjoyed his time with Dende, but Piccolo had baffled him. The other Namek seemed unsociable, withdrawn and downright quietly angry all the time. All the Namekians he'd met had been jovial and kind.

"Well, that's good then" he paused, remembering why he had come looking for the difficult young man, " I came to ask you if you would take me to meet the people that Dende has been talking about. The Z warriors"

Piccolo's frown only deepened. "Why?"

"They're the heroes of this world! Besides, Dende insisted"

Mokugyo motioned with his hands as if Dende was an unstoppable force that cannot be disobeyed. Piccolo was still mildly suspicious but sighed in defeat and uncrossed his arms.

"Fine, tomorrow. It would be too late for them right now"

"Great. Well, why don't we have something to eat. You must be hungry"

Piccolo raised a brow. _Does he mean food?_

He turned, expecting Piccolo to follow, which he did, eventually. If only because he wanted to verify with Dende that visiting the Z senshi tomorrow really had been his suggestion. The halls of the lookout were quiet, and it was a five minute walk back from the library to the main palace. Piccolo watched Mokugyo like a hawk and he must have felt it because he stopped suddenly, turning around. Piccolo nearly walked into him and bristled at the closeness. He watched as his unwanted companion moved so that they could walk side by side. _Oh great, so we can walk and talk._

"Dende tells me you're only about 70 years old"

Piccolo was immediately confused before realising that he was counting Namekian years.

"What? Oh, right. I suppose that's about right"

"That's pretty young for a Namek to be away from his people"

Mokugyo was walking too closely for Piccolo's comfort, but the walls of the corridor wouldn't allow for much adjustment.

"I was born here"

He was surprised that Dende hadn't mentioned that, since he'd apparently told the stranger every other tiny detail about him and the others.

"Oh. I guess we have more in common than we thought"

 _No, we don't._ Piccolo didn't reply, so the other Namekian continued.

"I'm closer to 150, twice your age at least"

He looked no older, and Piccolo figured it was just the way Namekians were. They had thankfully arrived before he had to talk further and annoyingly, Mokugyo opened the door for him. Dende's happy young face greeted them both as he gestured towards the table.

"Moku! Mr Popo has kindly prepared some Earth dishes you might like, and a couple you don't mind too, Piccolo"

He felt tricked. This had clearly been planned, this other Namekian had known he would come. _I could quite have easily not come._

"Will you not join us Dende?"

"I will for a cup of tea, but then I really do have to get back to my duties"

Piccolo sat down uneasily and accepted a cup of hot tea from Mr Popo. He did feel a little hungry at least, which was unusual. He figured it was because he wasn't meditating as much as he would normally, he was too unsettled. _Or interrupted, by the wittering of Dende and his beloved new Namekian penpal._

"Piccolo, I was telling Moku that he should go and visit our friends, maybe at that party Bulma is holding"

"Party?"

"Yeah! Gohan dropped by an invitation earlier on, i'm surprised you didn't sense him. He didn't have time to stop, apparently Pan is quite the handful" Dende laughed, his lovely round features melting Piccolo's frosty demeanor. _That's probably Nail's fault._

"I must have been meditating." That was a lie, he had been almost definitely brooding. Dende faced Mokugyo then, speaking in excited, youthful tones.

"Well, they've helped save this planet several times, and our own people when Namek was destroyed. I thought it would be nice for you to meet some people who are like minded." Dende's smile was convincing, but it did fall a little at the mention of his home planet's end. He also made some gesture with his hand that Piccolo had seen the other Namek's do when mentioning it. Some sign of respect, he assumed.

Mokugyo smiled, whilst scooping some rice into a bowl and taking a spoonful of seasoned fish as well. He hadn't tasted sea creatures before and was fascinated.

"I would really appreciate that, when is the party?"

"Day after tomorrow"

With that, Dende finished his tea and bid them farewell for the night. It was probably around eight o'clock. Piccolo helped himself to a dish of rice with mildly spiced vegetables, his favourite, though he would never openly admit it. How Dende had discovered it he didn't know.

"Such a sweet kid, you must be really proud of him"

"Of course, he has more than proved himself to be worthy of his position"

Mokugyo was sat opposite, and in the light of the small dining room, Piccolo could see that his features were quite unusual for a Namekian. Blue eyes, wide jaw and a stronger nose than Piccolo's own upturned one. If it weren't for the pink body armour in all the right places he'd question whether or not he was really a Namek. His eyes trailed down the V in his shirt, as if to double check. He frowned when he glanced up and realised Mokugyo was watching him, hand poised with a fork full of food.

Piccolo immediately went purple and he swore internally when he felt the blush creeping up his ears. He cleared his throat and took a sip of his tea, keeping his eyes averted. Mokugyo laughed and swallowed his mouthful.

"It's okay. I know I look a bit different to other Namekians"

Piccolo placed the delicately designed china cup down and continued eating, taking small mouthfuls as the other man continued.

"I was born on a hot planet, even hotter than Namek. It's mostly black sand and volcanoes.

My father and his father were also born there, so maybe that's why"

"It's not...you look fine" Piccolo felt guilty for making the other man feel awkward. He knew better than most what it was like to feel like you're different, an alien, and have people judge you for it. In fact, he still felt it.

"Well, thanks. You look fine yourself" he grinned, features pulling in a pleasant way. It encouraged some unwanted flutter in Piccolo's stomach and the younger Namek felt the blush return, if it had even left. He wasn't comfortable, everything the other man said seemed to bother him and he couldn't get rid of that feeling. He also couldn't work out why he didn't just leave.

Moku spared a quick look at his dinner companion, who was slowly eating his rice and vegetables, and smiled whilst continuing to eat his own. He had easily embarrassed the younger man and although he felt a little bad, a part of him liked it. Up until now, the surly Namekian had closed him down in every conversation, ever day since he had arrived. Even though he had said very little so far, it was still leaps and bounds from that morning. He'd taken a liking to Piccolo from the moment he'd arrived. Dende idolised him, a great hero and wonderful person. That hadn't quite been so evident but he did sense a great deal of dignity, strength and intelligence. He did find something else interesting too, he found the other Namekian attractive, which surprised him, since no one on Namek had even crossed his mind in that way. He'd had partners before but had wondered if he just wasn't inclined towards his own kind like that.

Now, sitting here, watching this dark eyed surly young man blush, he felt very inclined. He had a suspicion that Piccolo would either run a thousand miles, or beat him to death, for even thinking about it. He frowned internally then. _Either way, it doesn't matter. That's not why i'm here._ His thoughts were interrupted when Piccolo asked a question of his own, raising those big dark eyes in his direction.

"Did you visit Namek before it was destroyed?"

Mokugyo was consistently caught off guard by the bluntness.

"Oh...no, my first time meeting Namekians was actually my recent visit to New Namek"

Piccolo nodded and pushed the bowl away, finished with his meal. Mr Popo had kindly replenished his herbal tea and he appreciated the gentle scents brushing his senses. The other Namek continued talking once he realised Piccolo was not going to be forthcoming.

"I had heard rumours that Namek was no more, on my travels through space. I mostly tried to aim for the right region of this galaxy but I was sidetracked a number of times. I left Magna probably...100 years ago"

"100 Namekian years?"

"Yes, how long is an earth year?"

"Almost three times that of a Namekian year"

Piccolo wondered if his father was alive, or if he had a family of his own, but he didn't ask. The past could be painful, and he didn't want the question returned, so that he'd have to explain that he's the devil spawn of a demon who tried to enslave the human race. It sounded complicated.

"Eventually I found New Namek" he smiled, now finished with his own meal, and took a sip of some human drink that Piccolo suspected was alcoholic. He had tastes and an appetite that he found absurd for a being that subsists almost entirely on water. "I'm pleased I did, they're are some lovely people there, and the history!"

Piccolo had no idea what was so interesting about Namekian history, unless there was some great agricultural war he didn't know about. Then again, he didn't really know anything about Namek. He eyed the other man, who was now leaning back in his chair with hands behind his head, he had a way about him that was so reminiscent of Nail.

"Why didn't you stay there?"

He chuckled at that, wide teeth and sharp canines showing.

"It's not...really for me. I've been on my own for such a long time. Besides, they're farmers, teachers or healers and that's the whole backbone of their society"

"Sounds like you'd fit right in. Help the helpless, maybe?" Piccolo raised an eyebrow and smirked.

Mokugyo laughed out loud then. _Was that a joke?_

"Actually, I don't want to mislead you. I was in space for a long time, but I wasn't always a good person."

Now this got Piccolo's attention. He felt a certain satisfaction that he had been right about his suspicions, but he also couldn't help but be intrigued.

"Oh?"

"I...was more inclined towards crime at first. I did a lot of things i'm not proud of."

 _And here I was thinking you were some kind of Namekian angel sent by Porunga himself._

Piccolo's tone spoke volumes as he replied, and it didn't go unnoticed.

"We all have a past."

Moku smiled and stood. Piccolo followed suit and they both walked down the hall to their personal quarters. He felt like a lot of meditation was in order and he grunted at the older Namek before going into his own room. Moku went into the one opposite. Piccolo hadn't realised, since he rarely used the room Dende had given him, that they were staying so close together. He was torn between hating the very thought of it and thinking it was a good strategic move on Dende's part, you know in case he tried to kill them all. He rolled his eyes. Dende's motivation wasn't defence, it was going to be something asinine like togetherness and friendship. _Hell, why don't we all stay in the same room and make our own little colony._

He was scowling as he crossed his legs to meditate.

Vegeta and Eighteen landed on the lookout at dawn, looking like they'd been up looking for a fight for hours. Eighteen raised a refined eyebrow as she took in the silence. Normally, Piccolo would have sensed them and already be waiting by the time they arrived. Vegeta stalked forward, streamlining his way into the palace wearing his Saiyan armour. She followed languidly behind, half intrigued and half amused. He immediately started shouting as he neared Piccolo's energy signal and Eighteen burst into laughter.

"Piccolo! Piccolo! Get up! You call this being prepared!"

She did think it was kind of ironic, the Namek usually bleated on about being prepared for battle at all times so much that she had caught herself saying it. She idly brushed at her blue jeans, which she had coupled with a white shirt and black vest, her signature look. Eventually, they reached his door and instead of seeing Piccolo, stood in the hallway was another Namekian, one they hadn't met. Vegeta was instantly on guard, fists clenched in front of him as he demanded an answer.

"Who are you!? And what have you done with Piccolo?!"

He narrowed his dark eyes and equally dark, thick brows creased in suspicious and anger. Eighteen felt it too, though less comically. There was a time that neither of them would give two hoots if some Namekian had decided to eat Piccolo alive, and the feeling had been mutual. But that was then, and now they had a friendship that none of them had planned or even encouraged, in fact Krillin had openly dis-encouraged it. He had even nicknamed the three of them 'the Devil's trio'. If you messed with one, you got three. And she tensed up in preparation to slaughter this Namekian asshole.

Dende thankfully turned up behind Moku, waving his hands in mock surrender.

"No, wait, it's okay!"

Mokugyo simply stood there with a serious expression, hand seemingly clasped against some weapon on his belt. Piccolo then slammed his door open, face conveying a thousand thunders.

"What the hell is going on?!"

Vegeta paused then and seeming to understand that they weren't under attack, lowered his fists. He turned to Dende in fury.

"What are you doing up here? Growing Nameks!"

Piccolo looked like hell and he heaved out a sigh. How he hadn't heard this God awful noise he didn't know. He had tried to meditate but struggled to clear his head, he realised now that he must have fallen asleep. Come to think of it, he hadn't meditated successfully in a week and he had one impressive headache to prove it.

"This is Mokugyo, he's Dende's...friend. From space." Piccolo's ability to articulate was below par.

"Call me Moku." He stuck out his hand, as he had learned is the human custom, and received a scowl instead. _Or don't._ He withdrew it and stuck his hand in his pocket, his other hand only now releasing its hold on his weapon. He had come out of his room thinking they'd been under attack, or that Piccolo was in trouble. He should feel relieved, but he didn't because this was a Saiyan. That much he already knew. _Are there more? Do they rule this planet?_

Eighteen huffed and shoved the small man out of her way, though it took some effort. _He's like a goddamn boulder._

"Forgive his rudeness, he just can't help it. I'm Eighteen, this is Vegeta. Welcome to Earth"

She didn't attempt to shake his hand and simply placed her hands on her hips as if she had solved everything. With a flick of her hair she gestured to both the taller Nameks, cool blue eyes betraying mirth.

"Shall we go then?"

Piccolo nodded, after all this a fight was exactly what he needed. He went inside his room to change out of his clothes, smirking as he thought of Dende pitching a fit if he ruined this outfit. Outside his door, Vegeta and Eighteen had already left. Moku waited for Piccolo, seeming to not trust the other two. Piccolo smirked, _at least he's not stupid._ They joined the other two at the Lookout entrance. Vegeta had decided that they could train there, much to Dende's exasperation.

"I'll take the new sapling"

Eighteen smirked, fighting Piccolo was always a pleasure.

 **Please R &R!**


	2. A Beautiful Mark

**Adventure of the Lonely Hearts**

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z or any of its characters, or anything really.

Warning: Swearing & violence

 **Chapter 2**

 **A Beautiful Mark**

Thin, frosty air whistled across the Lookout's surface, icy whispers making cold tiles colder still. The altitude made life up here brisk but if any of the fighters noticed, they didn't show it. Dende remained underneath the lookout's grand arch with an open disapproving frown but a small amount of secret interest. Vegeta stood with legs shoulder width apart, fists clenched and a sneer well and truly gracing his features as Mokugyo looked on with an amused expression. The smaller Saiyan's disapproval at the other man's attitude was as blatant as every other emotion the angry royal had ever felt and Dende wondered if the his heart ever got a break from all the stress hormone. _I suppose it's natural, for a Saiyan. I forget that Goku was the exception._ Mokugyo was thinking something along the same lines, but not quite. There was no empathy welling deep in his heart for the Saiyan temper, but rather just the quiet acknowledgment of it. As Moku looked down at the Prince, Dende thought that he might have seen a coldness in those navy blue eyes, but he shook away the idea as soon as it had even sputtered into existence. Whilst Mokugyo and Vegeta stared at one another in one long testosterone filled silence, Dende rolled his eyes and looked towards the other two fighters instead.

Eighteen was standing with her right foot slightly in front, a precise right hand on her denim hip and with her left, she beckoned Piccolo. The arrogance in her seemed to roll of her fingers as she moved them through the air. It was almost tangible, and Piccolo loved it. Well, love might be a bit strong, but he did enjoy a bit of healthy ego in a sparring partner. She so much resembled Seventeen when the Android had challenged him on the island, a fight that he remembered simultaneously as thrilling and harrowing. The feeling now, out of context, was just a sickening pool in the pit of his stomach. He swallowed whatever memory had surfaced and shifted into his fighting stance, curling talons and dipping his head before vanishing. The wisp of his cape sounded long after his disappearance and, for a moment, Eighteen was impressed but as with most feelings of that nature, she didn't feel it for long. She braced herself, slim wrists coming up in front of her chest as she felt the cool air shift and brush the fair, faint hair on her face. It was a mistake, one she only realised in a rush as his elbow connected loudly behind her and into her left shoulder blade. With a graimace, she staggered forward.

The shock came and went, and so did Eighteen. Twirling, she extended her right leg and although he tried, he didn't move fast enough and the tan material of her boot felt like concrete as it struck him in the side. Mokugyo watched on in fascination at the force of their blows, as they struck one another and his ears heard each bone splintering impact as it resounded across the Lookout. Vegeta glanced at them for a moment and quickly, with thoughts that he was being upstaged by a sentient plant and well dressed, walking toaster, flew at Mokugyo before the other man could even register the movement. Or so Vegeta thought. The distortment of air fluttered in Mokugyo's mind before he felt it brush the tips of his antennae and instead of the Saiyan landing his fist in the softness of the Namek's stomach, the momentum carried him with such force that his gloved hand plummeted into the white tiles below. Shattered stone erupted from the floor, dust billowing up into his hair and face. His snarl was as ferocious as his curse as he flung back and turned, seeing to his horror, that the Namek still stood there. Only now, he was facing Vegeta and there was a subtle smirk in those narrowed blues that did not speak of Namekian peace and prosperity, they said things that Saiyans say. Vegeta felt the blood burn beneath his skin and he grinned, lopsided and full of fight.

The sparring continued but Mokugyo's early show was just that, the lack of practice was evident. Hand to hand combat was an art taught by old masters in dark hoods on rogue planets, he fought with an assortment of guns, rifles, knives and grenades. Oh, and a ship also lined with weapons. He was half tempted to pull the gun he had stowed away in his black trousers as Vegeta's strikes relentlessly rained down on him. In fact, he briefly pictured it. _One more day, one less Saiyan._ He spared a glance towards Piccolo and resigned himself to the temporary defeat. The sliver of trust that the younger Namek might feel would be eradicated if he put a bullet in the angry man's unusually large head. Piccolo and Eighteen were tiring too and finally, midday was almost upon them. Mr Popo appeared seemingly from the tiles themselves and asked if they would like to come inside for lunch. The genie's smile seemed surreal to Mokugyo, and an odd combination of kind and somewhat sinister. He looked towards Piccolo, who was scratched and heavily bruised from the swift beating of an Android and raised a brow. The younger Namek returned his gaze and he looked at Mokugyo for the first time that day. Or, properly, at least. He had watched their fight and noticed that Vegeta was stronger, and more skilled, but the other Namekian had speed. The Saiyan had to work hard for his hits. He also noticed, now, how Mokugyo's skin had a hint of teal to it, or maybe it was the contrast with black trousers and a grey shirt. His gaze continued down, and he could now see dark leather straps here and there and it looked like a uniform of some kind. Moku's words were said with a hint of humour.

"Can I help you?"

He looked up, big dark eyes surprised first, then horrified. Eighteen noticed this little interchange and couldn't help but become involved.

"Oh, i'm sure there's something you can-"

Vegeta's demanding tone cut off the elegant blonde before Piccolo's humiliation could reach new heights of unbearable.

"Are you coming or not!"

She rolled her eyes, tutting before slowly strolling behind the Prince. Consuming food was a human problem, or Saiyan, she supposed, but a break would be nice. _Or maybe a glass of wine._

Mokugyo clasped a heavy hand on Piccolo's back and instantly regretted it when the smaller Namek flinched. Eighteen had done some damage. His only consolation was that he knew she was as broken and bruised, only she had an Android way of going about it. Piccolo started walking, gi in tatters and bloodied at the tears, and he absently thought he should go and change first. The thought came too late however, and they soon joined Eighteen and Vegeta, who were seated at the round table with Dende, whilst Mr Popo served colourful, steaming dishes. The Saiyan sunk into his food like lead to water and the grimace on Piccolo and Eighteen's face was synchronous. Moku laughed, of course, _their appetite for food is almost as bad as their lust for the kill._ Eighteen turned her head at the sound of the Namekian's chuckle and she cocked her head, blonde hair swaying. It was a pleasant sound.

Piccolo sat down, if only because he thought he might collapse on the floor otherwise, and he immediately regretted it when Mokugyo took the seat next to him. Piccolo must have given the other Namek an irritated side glance, because Eighteen noticed and an almost invisible smile graced her lips. Vegeta interrupted the comfortable silence, earning him a contemptuous glance from liquid blue eyes as she sipped her wine.

"I'm surprised you could fight as well as you could, Namek. I thought all that were left were farmers and healers"

Mokugyo leaned forward, elbows on the table as he answered. He struggled to want to speak to the Saiyan but buried that feeling deep.

"I was born a long way from Namek. My father is a warrior"

The Prince nodded as he continued to wolf down rice and meat. Mokugyo reached forward and served a small portion of cooked vegetables and rice into a bowl whilst Vegeta continued.

"So is mine, Saiyans are a warrior race"

Moku seemed to stall for a fraction of a second before responding.

"Yes, i've...come across your kind before"

This made Vegeta look up, dark pupils seeming serious for a moment, but whatever thought was swirling in that royal brain wasn't voiced. Piccolo and Eighteen spared eachother a glance, a sort of 'what's that then?' Piccolo wondered if Moku had come across the Saiyans when they worked for Frieza _. He must have._ He didn't have time to analyse that thought further, however, as to his absolute chagrin, Mokugyo pushed the bowl of rice and vegetables in front of him. He looked at the other Namek, wide dark eyes swimming with displeasure. Moku sort of half laughed as he went about serving himself. Piccolo looked down into the bowl, like its very presence insulted him and when he looked up, he knew it did. Eighteen bit her lip and coughed into her hand to hide her laughter. Dende didn't notice as he placed a pot of herbal tea and two cups in front of the Nameks.

"There you go Piccolo, it's your favourite. I noticed you might be coming down with a cold so I added some honey in there." He meant so well, as was evident in his sweet smile.

However, this doting only added to the irritation that bubbling beyond the thresholds of Piccolo's patience. Eighteen cut in, seeing that her easily upset Namekian friend was about to rupture something.

"So, sorry, what's your name?"

"Mokugyo, or Moku, if you like"

"Moku, then, so tell me. What have you been doing in space?"

He continued to eat as he spoke and finally, Piccolo started to eat too, reluctantly. Actually, his stomach was complaining because it was his second meal in two days, but his body was grateful.

"Just travelling mostly, but I do run the odd shipment of medical supplies as well. I started my journey to Namek a long time ago, but I finally got there. That's where I met Dende"

 _How noble._ He fit the hero bill she supposed, kind, considerate, Namekian. There was something though, the way his eyes flickered sometimes. He was playing the roll excellently, but she was an Android, and she could see everything. The white wine felt smooth but sharp on her lips as she knocked the glass back. She thought, maybe, the subtle falsities might not be so elaborate, but perhaps it was just nervousness due to his obvious interest in Piccolo. Something which amused her to no end. She wondered if Piccolo returned it, beneath all the brooding and bravado of course. She could see why he might be charmed, the other Namek had a pleasant boyish smile, the kind that made you try hard not to return. Her chest gripped. Of course, it was the smile Krillin has. The smile she fell in love with.

She must have been staring because Mokugyo looked at her strangely. The concept of embarrassment though, to her was as strange as compassion used to be, so she just smirked and tipped her glass to him. Meanwhile, Piccolo had finished almost half of his dish but hadn't touched the tea which still sat in its blue and white china cup. Dende was right, he thought that maybe he was coming down with something, which was highly irregular. _Actually, it would be highly appropriate, considering my recent run of luck._ He stood abruptly and even Vegeta looked up for a moment.

"I'm going to get cleaned up"

Vegeta raised a thick brow. For a Piccolo farewell, that was actually a rather long one. Dende smiled.

"Okay, maybe you should rest. Moku, you can stay with us." Mokugyo stood.

"It's alright Dende, I'll go with Piccolo, I need to go back to my room anyway"

Piccolo frowned. _Of course you do._

As both Nameks left, Dende asked Eighteen if she'd like more wine.

"Do you even have to ask?"

Mr Popo appeared with the bottle and poured the white golden liquid and she smiled a cold thanks. Dende knew she didn't mean it to be so but that the feeling in her was still so far from the surface. Vegeta licked the last bone and placed it on the plate, nodding a thank you as it was taken away. He leant back, strong hands going to interlink behind his shock of black hair.

"I'm not convinced"

Eighteen's eyes moved but nothing else did as she regarded the Saiyan. She waited. The pinot grigio felt like the perfect balance of good and bad as it slid down her throat. He would continue, but only if the silence stretched on enough. Dende frowned but said nothing.

"I mean, what's he doing on Earth?"

The young Namek defended his new found friend.

"He's visiting me, we met on New Namek!"

Vegeta's unnaturally dark alien eyes fell on the Kami, and he scowled at the young man's naivety as it sat upon his features in its naked form.

"What for? He just met you"

"I don't know, maybe he is just visiting. He is a traveller. Isn't that what they do?"

He looked at Eighteen like she'd gone dumb.

"I don't buy it"

Her laughter immediately made a sneer on his face.

"I like him"

She knew it would make him go wild, but she couldn't help it, she did like him.

"Don't be absurd"

"You're just sore because he had the upper hand at one point"

"No i'm not!"

"Oh, i'm sure. I remember _that_ look." The smile reached her eyes this time as the horror and indignation reached his. He scowled deeply. _She just always has to bring it up that she broke my arm._

Dende dismissed the two with a wave of his hand, though he was still in good spirits. He knew that behind the suspicion, they were just concerned for Piccolo.

The headache that had ruptured Piccolo's skull that morning was now beginning its slow, painful return. The walls of history swam past his vision and even the high arch of the corridor ceiling did not impress. He strode, more than walked to their quarters, and without acknowledging the other man, opened and slammed his room door in one single motion. Mokugyo stopped with a hand on his own silver door handle and chuckled, fangs peeking. _How dramatic._

His own clothes were rather worn and torn as well, and as he entered his room he started to undress. Re-materialising a new uniform wouldn't be the greatest encumbrance, thought he mourned the lost of the suit that had probably been his longest companion. The muscles in his arms and back were now beginning to ache terribly and he looked towards the bathroom adjoining his room. Mr Popo had prepared everything perfectly, leaving soft, white towels impeccably folded and a bathroom big enough even for his large frame. These frivolities were a luxury, one that space travel did not afford but especially not in his line of work. His long fingers smoothed over the white cotton, enjoying for a moment the softness and as he did, the clean scent was disturbed into motion. He thought for a moment then, what else he might touch. The contours of jade under his fingertips. The feel of another, or one in particular. He flung his head back and stared at the ceiling as an awful kind of delayed sadness flooded his chest, the realisation serving as a cold reminder as it creeped up his face and into his cheeks. Moku picked up the towel in one taloned hand and forced himself to ignore the sensation, the scent and the reminder.

Piccolo sat on the edge of his bed. He could hear the faint sound of Mokugyo turning on the shower in the other room and he absently turned his head to the door. He could almost see the door to Mokugyo's room through the wood of his own. He must have stepped under the water as the beating drops dulled suddenly. It was the only sound in the echoing silence and Piccolo closed his eyes as he listened, leaning forward and putting sharp elbows on sore knees. The gi he wore was still tattered, and he had no intention of changing or cleaning. He had barely enough energy to remain sat there, hunched over in exhaustion, even as his own blood stained him. The sound of the water lulled his mind, so much like his waterfall. For a fleeting moment he thought about the pressure of the hot water and he opened his eyes in protest. He leant back onto the bed, legs still bent over the edge. The pull of injured muscle and healing wounds filled his mind with messages of pain instead as he stretched his torso out. Eighteen must have hit somewhere deep. A part of him was proud, although most of him was just in pain. The sound of the water in the other room continued and he forced himself to get up, ignoring his body's signals and protests. The feeling of dried blood and tile dust was as unpleasant as the knowledge of coming off worse than she did.

His thighs burned as he walked into the bathroom, and instead of undressing he just burned the gi with his chi. Even the thought of moving his hands over his head made his ribs ache. The shower came on instantly and the water was as hot as he had imagined. As he stepped in, the relief was almost tangible. Purple water ran down his thighs, calves and ankles as the blood from his wounds washed away and he felt so at ease that a hand had to go out suddenly to steady himself. The fatigue was incredible, and now he felt hot and the headache was starting to leak into his sinuses. Twisting the handle, he turned the shower off with a small amount of remorse that he would chose to forget later. Beads of water sat on his skin as he walked, or rather, shuffled back towards the bed that he hardly ever used. Oddly, a shiver ran up and around his spine as he sat down slowly, despite the heat radiating from his cheeks. He must have pulled the sheets up around his wet body because he could feel the cool damp start to heat up from the temperature of his skin. Distantly, he wondered if he should summon Dende but the thought was lost somewhere as his eyes drifted closed.

Mokugyo stood outside Piccolo's door, clean and dressed in black pants and white short sleeved Namekian shirt. He knocked a second time and heard nothing, except the faint sound of a heartbeat and breathing. It was odd that a Namek wouldn't be awake now and concern started to pool in his gut. It was an ugly kind of concern, a mixture between being worried for the right reasons, and some of the wrong ones. He frowned internally at the disgusting feeling. His hand twisted the handle and it clicked. The heavy wooden door swung open on surprisingly oiled hinges. Moku took a few steps into the room, cautious that Piccolo might suddenly attack, before closing the door behind him. Blue eyes widened slightly as he saw the other man's sleeping form underneath the pale sheets. Dampness was soaking through in places and Mokugyo frowned, small crease lines formed between his sea green brows. He stepped lightly around the bed and to the other side, where the other Namek was resting.

Piccolo was laid on his right side with his left arm thrown up by his sleeping face. Sweat was like a second skin as it sat on his face and neck, and cheeks flushed purple. _He's sick._ He knelt down, and pressed a hand to Piccolo's head. _And he's hot as hell._ Moku looked around the room and soon disappeared into the bathroom. He returned with a damp cloth and a glass of cold water. The sound of the glass hitting the wooden bedside stand made Mokugyo hold his breath for a moment, expecting the younger Namek to wake up in a temper. But even as he placed the cloth onto his forehead, Piccolo didn't flinch. His antennae were lying lifelessly and Mokugyo found it awkward to avoid them, but that was a violation he wasn't willing to risk. As he moved the cloth down his neck he realised that Piccolo was sporting quite a few scratches and bruises on his collarbone, the mottled purple harsh against the forest green. A mild panic gripped him, as realisation dawned. He moved the sheets away and could see Violet blood soaking through the bed sheet and no doubt into the mattress. The wounds in his stomach and side were opening. _He isn't sick, he's not healing._ He knew that whilst the Namekian healing ability was incredibly useful, when it's inhibited, it's incredibly crap. _His body's shutting down until he can heal._ Moku closed his dark blue eyes in misery. This was his fault. _How didn't I think about this?_ He actually groaned out loud as he went back into the bathroom. He caught his own reflection in the mirror and he instantly wanted to smash it.

Eventually he found some disinfectant and he conjured up some bandage material but had to return to his own room for a jar of healing paste that he had picked up from New Namek. It was a gesture of kindness meant to be passed on his next mission. He had felt burdened then, but now he felt only pressure. Piccolo was bleeding out and his fever was outstanding. If Dende came by and tried to heal him, he would discover that this was artificial. Suddenly, all the possibilities of all the scenarios flooded his mind at once and he worked faster because of it. He rolled Piccolo over and grimaced at the stomach wound which was probably worse now than when it was inflicted. Moku poured disinfectant onto it and that's when the younger Namek's eyes flew open, but they were glazed and unseeing. Big dark pupils looked lost. The bandage was pulled tight and as he moved he noticed that the sheet had fallen down to Piccolo's pink abs to his pelvic bone. Moku's skin prickled and he looked away.

He continued to work, rubbing the paste and bandaging away until he had closed every wound he could see. Of course he knew the internal damage would still be there, and it wouldn't be healing any time soon. The thought that Piccolo might die crossed his mind, and the mixture of emotions he felt was not helping. Piccolo dying would really fuck things up. But also, _it bothered him._ He laid the ailing Namek down and looked down with the same kindness he always did, but inside there was a turmoil. This soft spot for the younger man was potentially a problem. And this, how could he explain this? Earning Piccolo's trust now was going to be a nightmare. His teal hands moved around Piccolo's head and he brought the water to cracked lips and poured, rubbing his throat to make him swallow. Piccolo coughed and shook his head in a delirious protest but it was ignored. After a few sips he gingerly laid him back down. Mokugyo rubbed the back of his knuckles against the younger Namek's warm cheek and, for a moment, enjoyed the softness. The softness that he'd been thinking about. He withdrew it quickly. As he did, his communication device beeped and he looked down at the message.

His dark blue eyes went darker still.

 **Have you located the source of Shenron?**


End file.
